It Feels So Cold Without You
by imightbejoking
Summary: Tony Stark may be gone, but he is never forgotten. This summary didn't tell you anything about the story. I'm sorry. You should read this.


It Feels So Cold Without You

Tony POV-

Tony could feel the life seeping out of him, in time with the warm blood flowing unceasingly from his chest.

 _Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, my ass. I'm just as vulnerable as any other guy with self-destructive tendencies and a lot of money to fuel them._

"Figures," he mutters, although it sounded more like a gasp at this point, in the general vicinity of his wound, smiling mirthlessly at the irony of the situation.

"Heh. Irony." He had always liked that word; it seemed to be relatable to most of his life, if not all of it. The thought brought back the memory of weapons and sand, of young soldiers and terrorists. Of a missile with his own name on it, an explosion sending shrapnel deep into his body.

His dying moments, and these were the memories his brain decided to dredge up from who-knows-where.

 _Fuck you._ He resorts to thinking rather than speaking, not having enough energy left to direct the movement of his lips.

His mind, decidedly against him, adds to the misery with a picture of Yinsen, ancient eyes glazing over while telling Tony to _run. Get out. Save yourself._

 _This was the plan all along._

His breath hitches, and he can feel his chest tightening under the cool metal of the suit, too exhausted to release the tears that Tony wishes would fall; just to feel something other than the numbness spreading outwards from the center of his being.

He knew this was going to happen; like Yinsen had said, this was the plan all along.

 _But it wasn't, was it?_ A small voice, soft and velvety, kindles the fire that was his doubt. _You didn't_ mean _to die. You were just too weak to stop it._

The soft whisper sounds more like a sneer now, mocking him in his final minutes. It was right, of course. Whatever _it_ was. He didn't _want_ to die a hero. He didn't _care_ about the honor or the glory. Sure, Tony was good at putting up a show for the press, 'I am Iron Man' and all that crap.

But really, all he wanted was a family. And he had had one, with pepper and Bruce and Steve.

That was gone now. Just like his parents.

 _Oh, don't get all mushy on me now. We've gotten_ this _far without it._

 _At least Rhodey is alive. And Pepper, and Bruce, and Peter. Nat and Clint too, I guess. And Cap._

Tony closes his eyes and lets out a small groan as he lets his head fall back. He can feel the cold spreading down his limbs; feel the darkness closing in on him. The rest of the names slip from his mind as the pain clouding it falls away.

 _See what I mean? You're not even strong enough to_ try _to fight this. Pathetic._ The voice in the back of his mind is nagging at him, but he can't place what it is. The voice is familiar, but the cold slows his thoughts, and he _can't do it anymore_.

He feels the moment that he lets go, slipping away from reality as he exhales for the last time.

 _I'm sorry._

)~oo0oo~(

Years later, and everybody who knew Tony still remembers exactly what they were doing when they heard he had died.

Pepper had been on her way down to the workshop to make sure Tony hadn't left the coffee machine's burner on again when Jarvis, the AI's voice somehow full of emotion, had softly informed her that Mr. Stark's body had been found, bruised and bloody, laying in an abandoned warehouse somewhere in Eastern Europe.

Bruce had been in his lab, the one Tony himself had had built for him. There is a hole in his heart that has been empty since the intercom crackled to life with Peppers voice, choked with sobs, and the news that Tony Stark was dead.

Peter had been at school, eyes trained on the clock, waiting for the bell to ring. When the girl sitting to his left gasped and leaned over to show him her phone with the news articles titled _A Fallen Hero: Remembering Tony Stark,_ he raised his hand and asked to go to the restroom. He threw up seven times.

Nat and Clint had been on a mission together, pausing when they heard the target's T.V. confirming that _yes, Tony Stark is dead._ They left before completing the mission.

Steve had been jogging, passing Sam again, when his phone rang in his pocket. It was Nat, her voice hard as if trying to force any emotion out of it. When she hung up, all he could do was stare at the screen. The screen of the phone Tony had given him to mark the occasion of a year passing since he had been thawed out.

Even after all this time has passed, every one of them have the same thought when Tony crosses their mind.

 _It feels so cold without you._


End file.
